


I Would Fall Apart

by Thaliel (Alodia)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Main quest spoilers, Time Travel, just fuck me up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:04:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alodia/pseuds/Thaliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The future Leliana scoffed behind me, “You’re worse than he was, when we thought you had died I thought we might never see him again he spent so much time hidden away in his tent, but at least he never cried.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Would Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Inquisitor Elena Lavellan is thrown into the future and finds herself facing some tough news and even tougher hearts.

The castle was positively _filled_ with red lyrium. It came from the walls and the ceilings, and knowing now that those shapes were once people… It sent me shuddering. Dorian was attempting to keep it light with all his jokes about suspension and tying people to beds, but even his eyes widened with horror when we came upon yet more and more patches of the drug.

Red shone out from under doors and lit our path more than even the enormous breach overhead. The entire situation was eerie to begin with, but when everything had the added bonus of being red, it made everything that much more unsettling. Behind each door was more of the ore, and I noticed quickly that it smelled heavily of metal and it menthol, clearing my sinuses and then filling it with the tang of iron and rust.

Whenever Cassandra or Varric got near me, the same smell came off of them in rolling waves, as if their heart beat was pushing it out of them and into the air.

It was a wonder they could even stand when under the influence of such a pervasive drug.

The more clusters of lyrium I saw, the more they made me nervous. There could be members of my clan, refugees from the Crossroads, or perhaps even Josephine under those heavy geometric spikes, each of them consumed in the same way Fiona had been. I tried to broach the subject with Leliana, but she remained stony faced and determined.

“But what about Josephine, is she okay? Did she manage to speak with that family in Lydes? Or Iron Bull and Blackwall, did they ever help with the training?”

Leliana glared at me, the heavy lines in her face deepening with her scowl, and remained silent.

It was clear Dorian and I were unwelcome interlopers who had no idea what she had seen, what they had to do in the last year, the sacrifices they made. She spoke of them briefly, a mention of a collapsed Haven and having to move the operation into caves, sweet Josephine getting caught in an explosion and losing a couple of fingers. Nothing she ever let loose was even mildly encouraging.

There was a tidbit almost every time we entered a new room in the dilapidated castle, but anytime Dorian or I would ask her to expand, she brushed us off. I imagined it was her way of seeking revenge, controlling our pain and measuring it out. We were spared the awful fate she had to endure, and worst of all we never would have to, so she refused to share even a little bit of her woes unless it was calculated for the most negative impact.

It wasn’t until we reached a chapel and were hoping to collect the last shard of lyrium that she let loose news of Cullen.

“We didn’t even give him a proper funeral,” she said quietly, and for the first time that night she sounded a shadow of her old self. Her voice was heavy with regret and sadness.  

I looked back at her, eyes wide and desperately hoping I had misunderstood her, “Give who a funeral?”

Her eyes locked with mine, darker than they used to be and filled with such anger I staggered back, “The Commander.”

I froze, much to Dorian’s chagrin, “The idea is to get _back_ to the future, _not_ to freeze ourselves here.”

Blood pounded in my ears, drowning out the sarcasm, and my vision was swimming making it hard to determine who exactly moved in front of me, but I stood still, trying to blink away the tears. Unfortunately for me, that just made them spill over faster, and once they had started streaming I could at least tell it was Cassandra who was in front of me.

Images were flashing in my mind, each only for a moment but also more powerful than the last. Cullen standing in front of Haven, living out of a tent and never complaining, always working harder to make it better for his men. Cullen blushing when we spoke and then growing fierce when he noticed a mistake over my shoulder, excusing himself to correct someone’s posture or their footwork.

His large hands encased with gloves but still obviously powerful, reaching up to rub the back of his neck and then moving to rest on his sword. Golden shining eyes reflecting the sunset and shining with hope. A scar crossing over a set of full lips as they smirked, taunting me with its beauty and reminding all who looked on that he was perfect in every other way.

Hands fell heavily onto my shoulders, and Cassandra spoke to me, keeping her voice calm and low, “This is not your hurt to grieve, Herald.”

Shuffling forward, I leaned into her shoulder and let my own sag, giving myself a moment to buckle. “Give me a second, Cassy,” I said softly my voice so thick I could barely form the words.

Leliana scoffed behind me, “You’re worse than he was, when we thought you had died I thought we might never see him again he spent so much time hidden away in his tent, but at least he never cried.”

Heavy breathing quickly turned into sobbing as Leliana went on, “I think he did always hold a secret hope you were alive though, too bad he never got to see it in person. Maybe the Maker told him when he died, although by the end Cullen wasn’t much a believer.”

Cassandra pulled me into her then, holding me as best as she could as I curled into myself, my hands pushing into my eyes as I tried to breathe around the sobbing. Breathing was almost impossible, heaviness in my chest sat like stones and made my tongue taste like ash.

She looked over me and glared at her companion, “Leliana, that’s _enough_.”

Leliana scoffed, “The least she could do is learn what she did to us, what happened to _him.”_

Cassandra huffed, “She has no reason to know, and your time is better spent telling her about the assassination, or the demons.”

Leliana didn’t respond for a moment, until, “It was _her fault._ She should have been here to protect him.”

Her voice was deadly quiet and filled with such a deep seated anger it quieted my tears, my emotions feeling like nothing compared to the depth of hers.

I stood ram rod straight, my back to the spymaster, wiped my tears and then walked past her and out the room, headed straight for the throne room.

\---

As soon as we arrived back at Haven I passed quickly by everyone who was asking me questions or wanted to welcome me home. Weariness had settled over me like a second skin and my eyes were begging for me to close them, but I walked right over to Cullen’s tent and let myself in. It was as if I was compelled, unable to do anything but go to him, to see for myself that he was alive and well, a man dedicated to a faith I did not understand, but utterly devoted to doing good and protecting those under his charge.

Cullen stood hastily when I threw back the flaps of his tent, “Herald—! I was not expecting you… Maker you look tired, you should really get to your room. Here, I will escort you there—Elena!”

The vision of him struck me numb before it washed me over with warmth, Cullen alive and well, stuttering as always and blushing fiercely. He was exactly as I remembered, scar and all.

I ran into him and held on for dear life, memorizing the cold press of armor against my arms and chest, how it made me feel thoroughly chilled but also reminded me of how capable he was. He was protected, and he was safe. Cullen was here and calling on his maker, he was not working in some cave in the cold, losing what mattered most to him and striving for the impossible.

Cullen could be protected here, he had his men and the entire Inquisition at his disposal and at his back.

His arms seemed not to know what to do with me, hovering over my head briefly before settling lightly onto my shoulders. It was something, but they were not wrapped around me and not holding me tight enough.

I stepped into him, pushing him back a step so he was forced to grab me to maintain his balance.

“E—Elena! What is going on?”

I sighed and leaned into him, finding him prepared this time to take my weight, “Can we take a moment, please? I just need you to hold me.”

I imagined I could feel his blush, but he did as I asked and remained silent and held me tight to him.

The feathers of his cape tickled my nose when I pressed my face into his shoulder, and when his arms finally went fully around me, I thought I would fall apart if he ever let me go. 


End file.
